Doubt (Caroline Auden Book 1) (10 page)

Caroline wasn’t so sure. Neither was the judge who’d decided that case she couldn’t pronounce.

“Look, I’m glad y’all are looking through those articles, but anything we find in the scientific literature is just gravy.” Dale gave Caroline a toothy smile. “I’ve been through this whole
Daubert
rigmarole before. The judge just wants to make sure we haven’t come up with some cockamamie theory of injury. We’ll easily pass muster.”

Caroline remained silent. She’d already voiced her concerns.

“Judges aren’t more sophisticated about science than any other educated laymen,” Dale continued. “We just need to put on a good show for Judge Jacobsen. When I argue, I always use a PowerPoint presentation. Big ole screen up there to
show
the judge what we mean.”

He held his hands up to show just how big a screen he meant.

“There’s nothin’ you can’t do with a PowerPoint. Judges just love ’em.” He grinned.

“I could send you materials for your PowerPoint,” Caroline offered, “so you can work in the inferential reasoning part that we’re writing up for you guys.”

“Sure thing. Why don’t you just write a memo about it for me, darlin’?” Dale said. “Now excuse me just a moment. I feel a speech coming on.” He winked and rose to his feet.

Using his spoon, Dale clinked the side of his wineglass.

When the conversation around the table had stilled, he began. “As the Committee’s president, I just want to say a few words. I want to welcome Louis and his associate, the lovely Caroline Auden. They’ve already done some good work for us reviewing those scientific articles. I wanted to offer them our sincere thanks for their efforts.”

A smattering of applause rippled around the table. Meanwhile, Dale graced Caroline with such a warm smile that she almost forgot he’d just blown her off.

“When I was young, my granddaddy gave me some advice,” Dale continued. “He said, ‘Son, if you stand in the shadow of someone smarter than you, they will lift you up.’”

Dale’s eyes again came to rest on Louis and Caroline. “Well, you have lifted me up. You’ve lifted us all up. We’re grateful. We’re glad you’re on our team. We look forward to winning this thing for the thousands of folks out there who are praying for us. For the people who are depending on us to do the job right.”

Dale paused to regard each of the lawyers at the table. “Like most of y’all, I’ve met the plaintiffs. I’ve sat with them and their loved ones. In hospitals. In their living rooms. I’ve heard their stories. That’s what keeps me going.” He patted his heart. “Their stories.”

Studying the spellbound expressions on the faces around her, Caroline understood why Dale had so much success with juries. Calm and smooth, with enough pregnant pauses to build drama, each sentence he spoke wove emotion and meaning into a potent concoction. Even the most seasoned litigators at the luncheon showed genuine interest, not just polite attentiveness.

“We may be advocates, but we have a calling to do more than just advocate a legal position,” Dale said. “We have a calling to be messengers for people too sick to speak for themselves. We are blessed to be witnesses to their suffering and, God willing, the guardians of their future health. I’m honored to work with each and every one of you. Thank you for all of your good work. You all lift me up.”

When Dale finished, applause erupted at the table. Even Caroline found herself clapping.

Dale nodded abashed thanks for the generous reception. He held up his hands as though the applause was really more than he deserved, which only made everyone applaud harder.

But then Dale caught sight of the waitress again, walking with her head down, avoiding eye contact with him.

As she passed, Dale gently grasped her bicep. “I ordered some champagne, and it still hasn’t arrived. I’ve been watchin’ for it.” He jutted his chin toward the wine tower, where the wine girl gracefully descended with a magnum cradled in her arms.

“Hey, I’ve got me a good idea,” he said. “Why don’t I help you go get it?”

Caroline admired the waitress’s display of self-control in not rolling her eyes.

“Fine,” the waitress said. She walked away with Dale trailing along in her wake.

“Hey, there,” said a voice from beside her.

She turned to find Eddie leaning on Dale’s vacant chair. His jet-black eyes twinkled with amusement.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, taking Dale’s vacant chair, his expression growing serious. “You look annoyed.”

“For some reason I thought people would be talking more about the case. The details, I mean.” Caroline looked in the direction Dale had disappeared. “Not just the emotional stuff.”

Eddie chuckled. “Don’t worry, it’ll happen. On the morning before we leave, everyone’ll talk shop a few minutes while they nurse their hangovers. Nothing’ll get done, but we’ll all plan to return in a month to do it again. It’s all part of living the life. You’ll get used to it. We’ll wine and dine and pray like hell that one of our cases hits big so we can wine and dine again.”

“You guys hardly live on a budget,” she said, eyeing his expensive watch.

“True.” He looked around the men remaining at the table. “Half of these guys have private jets. The other half have two. They need ’em for their depositions all over the country. It’s like a gold rush. They speculate in litigation. High-rolling.”

The cowboy culture of plaintiffs’ attorneys wasn’t so different from the bro culture of the tech world, Caroline realized. Other than Deena, there were no other women at the table . . .

Eddie smiled a disarming grin. “Now tell me what’s really bothering you. You looked like you wanted to drive a salad fork into Dale’s back when he was walking after that waitress.”

Caroline told Eddie about the hole in the evidence and the dead scientist and her quest for the missing article and Dale’s indifference and her strange conversation with Yvonne Heller.

When she finished, she exhaled softly. “Without that missing article, I’m afraid we’re going to lose. I know Dale thinks the proximity in time between when the plaintiffs consumed SuperSoy and got sick is going to be enough to beat Med-Gen’s motion, but what if it’s not? What if we’re about to lose unless we find that missing article?”

Caroline eyed the lawyers around the table, flushed with alcohol and mirth. Though she couldn’t hear their conversations, she was pretty sure none of them had anything to do with SuperSoy.

“Then you’ve gotta find it,” Eddie said. “I’m happy to help if there’s anything I can do.”

“Thanks,” Caroline said. “I’ll let you know if I have any bright ideas.” She decided not to tell him the one idea she’d had since arriving in Las Vegas. An idea she knew she’d pursue as soon as she got back to her room. An idea she feared pursuing . . .

Eddie smiled at her. “Perhaps we’d do some better thinking at the bar?”

Instead of answering his invitation, Caroline looked around the table. Some of the Steering Committee members were so deep into their drinks that she wasn’t sure they’d make it through lunch. Other seats were already empty, their occupants having roamed off to the casinos. And yet, Louis still sat at the table. So did Paul Tiller. And Anton Callisto. All the heavy hitters.

“I can’t. Not yet,” she decided aloud.

“Well, then, I guess I’m staying, too,” Eddie said.

He leaned back and placed a booted foot against the strut of the table.

“I’ll admit I wasn’t too happy when they shipped me off to Los Angeles for this assignment, but recent developments have led me to change that opinion.” He smiled, and the edges of his eyes crinkled up in well-worn smile lines. Even as the smile faded from his face, he maintained eye contact.

Caroline felt heat rise in her cheeks.

Sudden laughter drew her eyes away from the handsome associate.

She found Louis standing at the far side of the table, talking to Paul Tiller. With his short stature and bald head, Eddie’s boss contrasted with Louis’s towering elegance. Paul guffawed while Louis smiled, his features amused but controlled. It occurred to Caroline that she’d never seen Louis laugh. Not outright. The closest he ever came was a sardonic twinkle in his eye, coupled with a dignified grin.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Caroline asked. “Yachting?”

“More like fan boats,” Eddie said. “Paul grew up on the bayou down in Louisiana. His dad was a crawdad fisher or something.”

As Caroline watched the two men, Louis stopped talking. The smile he’d worn faded from his face as his eyes focused on something across the room.

Caroline tracked his gaze.

A man with a long nose that hooked over at the tip stood at the door of the restaurant. His bony countenance reminded Caroline of a scarecrow. He raised his hand to touch his forehead in Louis’s direction, as if he were tipping a hat, then he turned and walked away.

Caroline turned back toward Louis, who stared at the now-empty doorway to the restaurant. His face wore an expression she’d never seen before. An expression startling in its intensity. And its passion. It took her a moment to place it.

Hatred.

“What was that about?” Caroline asked, her eyes still trained on Louis, trying to imagine the cause of his hatred. Even after he turned his attention back to Paul Tiller, Louis’s preoccupation was written in his eyes, which kept flicking toward the doorway of the restaurant where the stranger had disappeared.

Eddie slowly shook his head. “I have no idea.”

The hairs at the back of Caroline’s neck rose. With sudden certainty, she needed to know the reason for the strange man’s appearance.

She rose from her chair to make her way to Louis.

But her phone rang in her purse.

Distracted, she answered without looking at the caller.

“Hey, kiddo.” Uncle Hitch’s voice came on the line.

Caroline cringed, wishing she’d screened the call. But it was too late now.

“Excuse me, Eddie,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

She jogged out of the restaurant’s doors and ducked into an alcove where she could hear well enough to have a phone conversation.

“I can’t talk now, Uncle Hitch,” she said into the receiver. “I’ve got some things I need to do here.” Like figuring out what the heck just happened back at the table, she added silently.

“Your mom decided to go camping with Elaine,” Uncle Hitch said. “She told me to check in with you once a day. I think she’s worried about me.”

Caroline stayed silent. Her uncle already knew she was worried about him, too.

“I just wanted you to know I’ve only had six drinks today,” he said. “That’s already one less than at this time yesterday . . . I’m getting sober.”

“Have you gone to a meeting?” Caroline asked.

“You know I hate AA.”

“It’s going to kill you someday, Uncle Hitch,” Caroline said quietly. Not that it would matter. Not that the former police officer and soldier cared what she said.

“Now wait a sec—”

“We can talk later. I’ve got to go,” she finished and hung up before he could reply. She didn’t want to hear his lame excuse for why he needed a drink.

Standing in the alcove, Caroline waited for her foul mood to dissipate. Her uncle’s drinking frustrated her. But even more than that, his unwillingness to do anything about it disappointed her. He’d always been so strong. When her father had left, Uncle Hitch had stepped into the vacant spaces. He’d attended events for her. Competitions. Graduations. He’d helped her learn to drive. But now he was a foundering ship, and there was nothing she or her mom or anyone else could seem to do about it.

When the mood didn’t pass, Caroline headed back to the table.

Maybe she’d take Eddie up on that drink after all, she thought darkly.

But when Caroline arrived at the Committee’s table, she didn’t see Eddie.

Louis, too, seemed to have disappeared.

So instead of sitting back down at the table, Caroline skirted the edges of the restaurant, scanning the vast space. She passed tables of laughing friends, couples long married or newly met, a tableau that played out like colorful fish in a tank that she, separated by glass and oxygen, could not be a part of.

Seeing no familiar faces in the restaurant, she stepped into the lounge.

Unlike the cavernous restaurant, the bar area was long and narrow. Golden light played on the ceiling, shining up through a long slab of quartzite. A row of well-dressed patrons stood against it, sipping drinks from elegant glassware.

As she wove between bar tables, she looked for Eddie or Louis. She saw neither man.

At the far end of the bar, a corridor bordered by velvet curtains opened onto a row of private booths.

Curious, Caroline passed into it, scanning the low tables with diners reclining on Moroccan cushions. When she reached the end of the private booths, she turned around to retrace her steps.

That’s when she saw Eddie. He sat in a nook hung with cobalt curtains that obscured all but his face.

She took a half step toward him, then froze.

He wasn’t alone.

Across from him sat a platinum blonde wearing a burgundy dress with a plunging neckline. The look on Eddie’s face made clear that he wouldn’t be interested in anyone but Ms. Platinum Blonde tonight.